


All's Fair

by Kaye_Fraser



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fairytale-based, Hacker Alec, M/M, Royal Magnus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaye_Fraser/pseuds/Kaye_Fraser
Summary: The job had sounded easy: sneak into a fancy high society party, steal some sensitive data, and sneak out.  But Alec gets more than he bargains for when he encounters a very distracting prince.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, fellow readers!
> 
> So, I was very content following along and reading the wonderful stories posted for Shadowhunter AU Mondays, but the topic this week was too good to not dabble in, so I thought I'd start up a piece.
> 
> It's been many, many years since I've written AU in any fandom (the last time was a historical pirate fic for an obscure anime over fiften years ago) so safe to say I'm a little rusty. 
> 
> Anyways, please enjoy, and excuse any mistakes you may find. I just decided to write this yesterday, and wanted to post before Monday, so it hasn't been through any rigorous editing.
> 
> Happy reading!
> 
> Cheers,  
> Kaye

"No, I'm not doing it." Alec looked back and forth between his two siblings, trying to decide whether he should be laughing in their faces or walking away from them in protest. He opened his mouth to refuse their proposal again, but his jaw just hung open when he registered the cold, determined glint in their eyes. 

Great, they were going to try and out-stubborn him, and he was at a marked disadvantage: two against one, even if that 'one' was him. Sometimes, he wondered if fairness was even in Jace and Isabelle's vocabulary. 

He snapped his mouth shut, leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms like a petulant – and somewhat petty – teenager. No one said he had to give them an easy victory. 

"Alec, you know this is the best plan we have." Izzy leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table that separated them. Her fingers gingerly pushed the vellum envelope on its surface toward him. Her eyes, wide and sweetly innocent, watched him with anticipation, an expectant smile pulling at her colored lips. 

Shit, she was good: subversive, and yet, somehow completely endearing. He counted his lucky stars they were on the same side of life's battles – well, most of the time anyways. His gaze danced over the cream colored envelope with its fancy red wax seal. 

"C'mon, Alec," Jace chimed in, his posture now mirroring Alec's, except for the emerging smirk. "Aren't you the one who usually jumps at everything the parents ask us to do? It's not like we haven't pulled off jobs like this for them before. Why should this be any different?" 

Alec glared at Jace through hooded eyes. He loved his brother. He really did, but sometimes, he wished the blond would just keep his mouth shut. Not that that would ever happen, of course, especially when Jace knew he was right. 

Their parents, Robert and Maryse Lightwood, had once be a part of the top echelons of New York society. They had been so finely woven into its fabric that it had been almost impossible to remove them without their whole superficial world unravelling. Yet, it had happened. Alec – having only turned eleven at the time – had been too young to remember the details of what or how it had occurred, but their parents had been irrevocably disgraced, and their fortunes lost. He vaguely recalled the arguments that had taken place back then in the early hours of the morning; bare feet padding against cold tiles when he'd peeked through a partially opened door in thin pyjamas. Words such as 'insider trading', and 'charges pending', and 'financial ruin' had been thrown about in such fits of rage and despair that he'd been grateful their yelling hadn't woken up Izzy, and Jace. 

Although he couldn't remember much of their lives back then, he did learn much about survival and self-sufficiency these last twelve years. After they'd lost everything, they'd somehow managed to land a small apartment in the less desirable part of Queens. Alec didn't mind it much. They were together, and they had a roof over their heads, food on the table. He hadn't even complained when he'd had to get a part-time job during his high school years to help pay for it all. 

Still, his parents had never seemed to accept their circumstances. Alec remembered, at sixteen and having just come home from an eight-hour shift at the grocery market, how their mother had sat him and his siblings down for a 'talk'. Before they knew it, they'd been sent to Wall Street as distractions to defraud one of the men responsible for their family's downfall. It hadn't changed their situation much, but Alec knew that wasn't the point. What they'd been doing these last seven years, this pattern of stealing and exposing the corruptness of the rich and powerful – it simply served to satiate Robert and Maryse's need for revenge, nothing more, nothing less. 

"It's different because first off, Mom and Dad are on the west coast with Max, and secondly, they didn't exactly ask us to do this," he finally countered. 

Isabelle tapped the beautiful material of the envelope again, its pristine quality contrasting sharply with old, scratched laminate surface of the table. "But this gives us access to Valentine Morgenstern's penthouse, big brother. You know how long Mom and Dad have wanted to get this guy? He's impossible to entrap." 

Alec arched an eyebrow. "Well, not impossible, obviously." 

"Because it's not every day royalty visits!" Isabelle rolled her eyes at him as if he were a starving man refusing a feast. "The man's hosting a party for some visiting prince. If you can get into his penthouse, connect to his network, and do that thing you do with computers and security systems, Jace and I can take care of the rest." 

"I don't do parties, Izzy. I would stand out like a sore thumb. They would know I was a fake the moment I stepped through the door." 

Isabelle blew out an exasperated breath. "You know how much male ego stroking I had to do to steal this invitation?" 

"Good job, by the way, Izzy," Jace threw in. 

"Thank you." She preened good-naturedly at the compliment before returning her attention back to the task at hand. "Jace and I don't have the skills you do with the computer, Alec. You know this is the best plan, just as _I know_ you won't walk away from this opportunity." 

Alec clenched his jaw unconsciously, and he concentrated on easing the tension. Despite her pretty, and sometimes breezy, demeanor, Isabelle noticed a lot. She'd had him figured out before he even knew himself. He wasn't like his siblings. He needed purpose, something to focus on and work towards. Their parents had provided that for him, and he was scared to face a future where they would no longer give him that. It was the main reason he worked as hard as he did, refined his computer skills as diligently as he had. He needed them to give him purpose, and to a greater degree, he needed their approval. But Jace and Isabelle, they weren't the same. They could head out into the world and find their own purpose. They didn't need anyone's approval, and Alec would always admire them for that. 

The old clock in the living room ticked loudly from atop the second-hand end table. Alec silently counted along with it for a bit, and kept the stern set of his expression in place. Then, finally, in one abrupt motion that startled Izzy, he grabbed the invitation off the table, and stood up. 

"Fine," he said resignedly. "We'll do this." 

"Alright, bro! We're going to have so much fun!" Jace rose as well, an excited light shining in his eyes. 

Fun wouldn't have been Alec's first adjective of choice. But he was a good little soldier, if nothing else, and he would do what his parents would want of him. "I'm going to need a tux," he added in a defeated tone. 

Isabelle broke into a wide, Cheshire cat grin. "Leave that to me, big brother. Leave all that to me." 

(***) 

The bend in the road came up quicker than he'd anticipated. With practiced ease, Magnus leaned into the turn without letting off the throttle, and sped out of the curve by taking the best exit line possible. He smiled, relishing the rush that only speed and adrenalin could provide. The bike engine purred in agreement beneath him as he zipped along the straightaway and toward the unofficial finish line. 

Through the side of his helmet's visor, he saw the flash of his companion's silver Ducati catching up. Now, he couldn't have any of that, could he? He shifted gears with his left food, and opened up the throttle. His bike responded accordingly, and the world rushed by him in a blur of mottled greens and browns, his friend nowhere in sight. There wasn't much that excited him nowadays, but this – this, he would never tire of: the speed, the exhilaration, and the illusion of control, of knowing that physics conspired to kill him at every corner but for the grace of his bike handling skills and some random luck. 

He came to a stop in front of the country club, took off his helmet, and waited for his companion to catch up. He heard the distinct rumble of the Ducati engine seconds later. 

"Shit, Magnus, you took that turn way too fast," the new arrival blurted out as he pulled off his own helmet. Brown hair flopped over accusing blue eyes. "You can't tell me you don't have a death wish and do something like that." 

Magnus shrugged, and gave his friend a lopsided smile. He'd met Daniel Oliver Peckham III – or Dante, as the man so happily called himself – when he'd been studying abroad at Cambridge. And even though Magnus had made it a point of never sticking around one place for too long, they'd managed to maintain a friendship these last ten years. He supposed that was why he'd contacted the man when he'd landed stateside a few weeks back. If anything, Dante was the perfect partner-in-crime. 

"Nope, not a death wish. Just pure skill." 

"Sure, whatever you say, _Your Highness_. Speeding along the back roads of the Hamptons isn't dangerous at all. It's not like you're the royal darling of a small nation, and have everything to live for or anything." 

Magnus chose to ignore the facetious tone. He changed the grip on his helmet, and shot Dante a pointed look. "My brothers can fight over the country all they want. I'm not interested." 

Dante idled his bike a little closer. "So you decide to exile yourself?" 

"I prefer the term 'extended vacation'." He wasn't lying. Magnus didn't really care which of his siblings took the throne eventually. He had access to his trust fund, and it was more money than he could spend in several lifetimes, so he didn't see the need to go back home. He was content traveling the world, and simply enjoying everything it had to offer. He was happy ... wasn't he? "So, we grabbing lunch?" he asked, wanting to avoid the maudlin direction of his thoughts. "I'm heading back into the city tomorrow for some party in my honor, so I might as well enjoy the quiet life before things get too hectic." 

"Oh, the horrible life of an exiled royal," Dante drawled as he put his helmet back on. 

Magnus followed suit, and they'd both just started to maneuver their bikes into the country club's parking lot when someone fell onto their path. Magnus cursed, and put on the brakes. He knew what was coming. This wasn't the first time someone had literally thrown themselves at him. But he managed to keep a concerned expression on his face when he popped up his visor. 

"You okay?" 

A light, feminine laugh was his response. A beautiful blonde in a cute blue sundress brushed the dust off her skirt from the well-staged fall. "Oh, yes, I'm such a klutz. I must've tripped on the curb over there. I'm so sorry. I'll – oh, aren't you that prince the media's been making a big deal about?" Perfectly lined eyes blinked coquettishly at him. 

"Yes, yes, he is," Dante cut in before Magnus could answer. "And who might you be?" 

The slow, drawn-out way that Dante asked the question told Magnus his friend was definitely interested in the pretty piece of fluff who'd been so eager to meet them. And who was he to deny Dante his bit of entertainment. 

"Viola Stanford. My daddy owns one of the biggest shipping companies hereabouts." 

Magnus never understood why people always told him their pedigree when they met him – it felt as if they wanted to prove something to him in some way – but he'd learned to brush it off over the years. 

"Daniel Oliver Peckham III, but people call me Dante," Dante responded in kind. "And this is my friend, Magnus Bane." 

"Your Highness." Viola's smile brightened even more, and she curtsied, much to Magnus' chagrin. The girl actually bloody curtsied! And when she rose, he swore he saw an almost predatory light in her green eyes. 

Magnus nodded casually, preferring not to encourage the behavior. He wasn't one for ceremony – that had been more his father's thing – and he definitely was not in the mood to play. God, he must be getting dull with age because the idea of tasting the local 'delights' had, at one time, always enticed him. Now, it just seemed – well, boring. 

"I'm glad you're alright, Miss Stanford," he said pleasantly. "But if you'll excuse me, I have a list of errands I must run." At this, the wattage of Viola's smile dimmed. "But I'm sure Dante wouldn't mind some company for lunch. Perhaps afterwards, you could persuade him to show you his summer house outside Southampton." 

At the mention of Dante's family's wealth, Viola perked up again, her attention diverted. 

Dante looked over at him with an 'are-you-sure' expression. 

Magnus gave him an imperceptible nod before lowering his visor. "Have a good day then, Miss Stanford. I'll text you later, Dante." 

And with that, he turned his bike around, revved the engine, and sped away without an ounce of regret. 

(***) 

There was not a word in the English language strong enough to describe how much Alec hated parties. And not just any party, but a fancy society party with a live string orchestra, and actual servers in uniforms carrying shiny champagne flutes. He'd never felt so out of place. He slipped his mini-tablet into his inner jacket pocket and tugged at the bow tie. Damn it, his collar was too tight and his shoes pinched. He just hoped Izzy and Jace worked their magic in record time so he could get out of here before anyone noticed him. 

He'd been nervous as hell when he'd arrived in his ill-fitting tux and handed his stolen invitation over to the man at the door. Part of him had expected to be thrown out onto the street at first sight. The other part – well, when they'd let him in, the other part had wanted to bolt from there as fast as humanly possible. The penthouse he'd stepped into was like another world: the warm, gold undertones had set a decadent backdrop for the sparkling jewels and expensive suits that moved about the space. Alec knew that Morgenstern had money – the man's name was behind several corporations, after all – but the ornate filigreed light fixtures and rich mahogany furniture was a testament to the man's more lavish tastes. He had wandered the rooms for just a few minutes to get a lay of the land before hightailing it out of the penthouse and onto the large rooftop patio. The outdoor space was easily the same size as the interior itself, and with the night being cooler than usual, he had quickly found a quiet, secluded corner to do his work. 

He'd connected to the wireless without any issues from his position. After that, he'd used his personal, pre-loaded software to SSH into Morgenstern's network, and access and disable the security system. The hard part of his job was done now. 

Letting out a nervous breath, he leaned against the glass railing at the end of the patio. Normally, he would take some time to soak in the array of New York lights that fanned out before him like a glittering kingdom – because when would he ever get a chance to see the city from atop one of the city's prime real estate locations? – but he was too distracted. 

He took out his cell and checked the texts. Nothing. Izzy and Jace were somewhere in the offices several floors below, doing their thing. All he had to do was wait for their message to get his ass out of there. With any luck, no one would ever know he'd been at the party. 

"I would say 'don't jump', but I think it would be a quicker and more humane way to go than slowly dying of boredom in there." 

The new voice startled Alec to the point where he almost dropped his phone over the edge. Quickly gathering his wits, he clutched his cell tightly, turned to face the newcomer, and promptly froze. 

A sleek, black tuxedo jacket hugged a tall, compactly built frame. A deep red waistcoat peeked out from underneath, complemented by a matching, neatly tied cravat. But what had stolen Alec's ability at coherent thought was the exotic beauty of the man's face. Soulful intelligent eyes, expressive curved lips, and a strong defined jaw line all worked to enhance the confidence and charisma that simply oozed from the stronger. Suddenly, Alec felt like a five year old playing with his father's things. His jacket was too constricting, his pants too short, and he wanted nothing more than to run away, and admire the untouchable, perfect man in front of him from afar. 

Then, the words he'd just heard sunk in, and he struggled to respond. "What? I – no – I wasn't going to jump or anything." 

God, was that his voice? It sounded higher pitched than usual. So much for blending in, and getting out unnoticed. 

The stranger chuckled, a deep, rich sound that caused Alec's insides to do some odd, fluttering thing. "I didn't mean to imply you were. I was just joking." 

"Oh." Alec glanced down, feeling like an idiot. 

"My name is Magnus. Magnus Bane." The man held out a hand, and looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for some extreme reaction. 

"J-Joe. Joe Branwell." Alec shook the offered hand. 'Joe' was a common enough name, and using his old schoolmate's surname seemed like a safe enough course. He didn't think Lydia would mind. 

Alec may have been mistaken but he could've sworn he saw some tension leave Magnus' posture. "Nice to meet you, Joseph. That's what Joe is short for, right? Mind if I call you that? You just look like you should have a grander name than simply 'Joe'." 

Alec shrugged. "Sure, go ahead." 

"May I join for a bit? I swear, if I have to make anymore small talk about the weather, I'm going to go on a homicidal rampage." 

Alec's first instinct was the refuse, but that tiny voice inside his head – a voice that sounded eerily like Isabelle – told him to play it cool and casual, at least until the job was done. He shrugged again, and turned back to face the city nightscape. "Whatever." 

Magnus stepped up to stand beside him, and Alec caught a whiff of the man's aftershave. Fuck, Magnus even smelled incredible. Women probably threw themselves at the guy's feet. Alec tempered down a rush of resentment and jealousy just as his heart sped up at the man's nearness. 

"What do you think they're doing down there?" Magnus asked after a pause. 

"Huh?" Alec glanced over at his companion, subtly admiring how the limited lighting played off the sharp planes and angles of the man's face. 

"All those lights out there, flickering on, flickering off. There are people behind them, right? Each one contributing to the big whole. What do you think they're doing?" 

Alec scanned the dotted tableau spread out before him, and actually registered it for the first time. Night sat like a veil over an otherwise bustling city, shrouding everything save only those that shone the brightest. He could see Rockefeller Center from here, all lit up, and beyond that, the Empire State Building. The view was a demonstration of human innovation and genius, and it was the first time Alec had seen it with that mindset. 

"I-I don't know, but whatever they're doing, they sure make everything look beautiful." 

Magnus made a sound of agreement. Then, " You ever go skydiving, Joseph?" 

Alec laughed nervously. Great, now they were going to start talking about all the crazy things rich people did, and he wasn't sure if he could fake his side of the conversation. "No, I can't say that I have." 

"I've done it a few times," Magnus went on. "There's that moment when you're freefalling and the wind rushing by you is all you can hear. That's when you realize how insignificant and helpless you really are. And then, you pull the chute, and as you're floating down, you marvel at how everything down there just fits so perfectly together without you. On the grand scheme of things, our existence is just a blink of the eye, but everything else has a permanence about it that will be there long after we're gone. Kind of like everything we see out there now. Only, the irony is, that permanence was made by us, mankind. It's our claim at immortality." 

A silence fell between them after Magnus stopped talking, but strangely enough, Alec didn't find it uncomfortable. On the contrary, he was feeling quite the opposite. "Those are some pretty profound words." 

From the corner of his eye, Alec noticed Magnus shift his weight against the railing. "Yeah, sorry, I don't know why I shared all that with you. I guess you're just easy to talk to. I don't often meet people like that in my life." 

"No, no, I'm glad you're able to share." Alec wanted to deny the fact that he was unconsciously settling into a sense of security with his companion, but he couldn't. He was starting to like Magnus, which he intellectually knew would be a dangerous thing. 

A few more seconds passed before Alec felt the weight of the other man's gaze on him. He looked over, hoping his face didn't reflect the army of butterflies doing drills in his stomach. He raised a questioning brow. 

Magnus chuckled again, the melodic sound doing the same thing it'd done earlier to Alec's insides. The nearby patio lights highlighted an intriguing, indecipherable glint in those eyes. "Has anyone ever told you you're a very handsome man, Joseph?" 

The air stopped moving in Alec's lungs for a moment. Was – was Magnus hitting on him? His brain – the stupid thing – was having a heck of time processing the words and coming up with a smooth response. He'd known back in his early teens that he was gay. And although he'd never officially come out, he hadn't gone through terrible lengths either to hide it. He was fairly certain his siblings knew about his sexual preferences and accepted it, while his parents, as always, chose to turn a blind eye. But in all this time, no one – no man – had really shown any interest in him. Or if they had, he'd been completely oblivious. Whereas Magnus, he noticed right away, probably because he had been attracted to him on sight. 

"Uh, no, but thanks." Alec wanted to kick himself. _That_ had definitely not been smooth. And to make matters worse, his cheeks were warm, which only meant he was probably blushing. Nope, not smooth at all. 

Yet, his awkward reaction didn't seem to faze Magnus. In fact, much to Alec's surprise, the man appeared rather charmed by his answer. Rich people confused him. 

"So, I was wondering," Magnus continued, eyes never leaving Alec, "if you'd maybe like to grab a drink sometime." 

For a split second, Alec thought the world had stopped, or at least, slowed to a very drawn-out crawl. He heard his heart beat loudly in his ears, and he suddenly felt sticky underneath all the fancy clothes. And then, everything resumed its regular pace, the tinkling clatter of crystal and muffled voices of party guests popping his weird bubble. And there was Magnus, watching him, waiting patiently for an answer. 

He wanted to say yes. God, how he wanted to say yes. Because, when all was said and done, when would he ever see Magnus again? It wasn't like they hung out in the same social circles. So what was the harm in playing along with some casual flirting from a very attractive man? It would give him something special and uniquely his own to think back on when he returned to his normal life, a reality so different from this gilded fairytale life. His reality. 

"I – " Shit! Alec couldn't get the words out. 

That was when a commotion came from the direction of the party, and Alec's momentary lapse was forgotten. His awkwardness evaporated, replaced by adrenalin-fueled instinct. There were several men in black suits walking on the patio from the penthouse doors, each one pulling guests aside in a show of intimidation. Magnus turned to look at the noise as well, but before he could completely see what was going on, Alec did the only thing he could think of to get himself out of the situation: he reached out, gripped the fine material of the other man's expensive suit, and pulled him in for a kiss. 

(***) 

To say that the party had been a tedious affair would've been an understatement. He'd been to so many of the same types of gatherings over the years that Magnus had been tempted to strip naked and streak the room just to change things up a little. Then, on the patio, he'd encountered the most charming individual he'd ever met. There was a genuine innocence about him that Magnus couldn't seem to get enough of. It was in the way he stood, the way he moved, the way he talked. Add to that the whole tall, dark, and handsome label, which just so happened to be Magnus' type, and he was completely intrigued. He had truly wanted to get to know the stranger, and that was something that rarely happened with anyone. 

So, when said stranger suddenly pulled him in for a kiss, he was more than an eager participant; he was a persuasive expert. Joseph's kiss was messy and a little all over the place – inexperience, definitely – but that only endeared the man even more. Magnus calmed them down. His tongue darted out, stroking his partner's lips, coaxing and confident, but never aggressive. There was a low moan from his companion's throat, and a tantalizing heat pooled in his groin at the sound. He moved his hand up, and pulled the man closer, his fingers savouring the softness of fine, dark hair. He felt an arm around his waist, gathering him closer, and Magnus mentally gave himself a point for winning Joseph over. 

"Sir? Sir, we need you to turn around." 

The loud, invasive voice cut through Magnus' cloud of pleasure with a vengeance, and his anger had never risen so quickly before. He reluctantly broke contact, and turned to the interloper, murder burning in his eyes. 

"And what matter would be so important that you much disturb me now?" he hissed. 

"Sorry, sir, but there has been a security breach. We have to check every guest. Mr. Morgenstern's orders." 

Magnus' eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do you know who I am?" he asked through gritted teeth. He was not usually one to pull rank, but he was just angry enough to do it now. 

"No, sir, I don't but if you'll stand over – " 

"No, not him." 

Magnus looked over to the source of the new voice, and saw his host approaching. "That's the prince. He's clear." Morgenstern dismissed the security guard. "Sorry, Your Highness," the older man added as he stopped in front of him. "My offices were just broken into and some very sensitive information was stolen. I just needed to cover all my bases. You understand." 

Magnus nodded grudgingly at the apology, although he couldn't detect any true regret behind the words. He didn't particularly like Valentine Morgenstern on a personal level, but he could behave diplomatically when required of him. After all, he'd been trained to do it his whole life. 

Taking Magnus' gesture as forgiveness, Morgenstern quickly turned his attention to the other guests, barking out an order to another guard. But before he walked away, he bent down and picked something off the ground. 

"You dropped your phone, Your Highness," he said as he handed to thing over. 

Magnus examined the cell, and didn't recognize it at all. He turned to Joseph, ready with an apology of his own, and to ask if the phone belong to him, but he stopped, mouth partially open. 

The man was gone. 

(***) 

The rendezvous point was the subway station on Lexington and sixty-third, and by the time Alec finally got there, out of breath, Izzy and Jace were already waiting. 

"What took you so long, big brother?" Isabelle whispered loudly as he approached. 

"Sorry, but these shoes are not meant for running," he countered as he shrugged out of his jacket and pulled apart his bow tie. "And don't distract me. You guys were supposed to be in and out without anyone noticing. But there were fucking security guards at the party!" 

Isabelle sighed loudly. "There was a hiccup." 

"A hiccup?" 

"Jace got distracted by a pretty redhead when we were going in. It put us behind schedule, and a guard on his rounds noticed us." 

Alec glared at Jace incredulously. "A redhead? Seriously?" 

Jace had the decency to look somewhat remorseful. "Hey, in my defence, she was super hot." 

Alec echoed Izzy's earlier sigh. He supposed he shouldn't judge, especially considering how minutes ago, he'd been distracted himself by a pair of alluring eyes, and a rich, soothing laugh. "Did you get what we needed?" he asked instead. 

Isabelle patted the top of her left breast where she usually tucked thumb drives with important information. "Safe and secure." 

"Good, then let's go home." 

Together, they headed down the subway station's stairs, all eager to get out of Manhattan. 

"So did we give you enough time to escape the guards?" Jace asked as they tapped their Metrocards. 

"What?" 

"The text. I texted you the moment we were clear. It should've been enough time for you to get out of there, I thought." 

Alec froze on the spot, eyes wide. His hands searched all the pockets he could find, almost frantically. Other than his mini-tablet and wallet, they came back with nothing. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck! 

Alec closed his eyes, and wished for the world to end right then and there. In that whole kerfuffle, he'd dropped his fucking phone. 


End file.
